


Love Slaves of the Kobold King

by JynnxeJones



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Humor, Inappropriate Footwear, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-consensual sex, Oral Sex, Public Nudity, Relentless use of Euphemisms, Sexual Humor, Sexual Slavery, Spooky Underground Places, Stormwind Daily News
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28037259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JynnxeJones/pseuds/JynnxeJones
Summary: Intrepid Stormwind Daily Mail lifestyles reporter Jynnxe Jones ventures into the depths of the Echo Ridge Mine in search of an interview with the legendary Kobold King! Instead, she finds herself, a helpless captive in his stygian lair! (Part 1 of 2)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. The Hall of Many Candles

_[Much has happened since we published our expose on the Elwynn Forest candle trade a few weeks ago. William Pestle is under investigation and facing potential jail time. The trade in kobold candles has collapsed and nearly every general goods vendor in Stormwind has shifted to “Fair Trade” candles. Right now, most of these are imported from Kul Tiras. But there is talk of establishing hives in Westfall, part of a much larger effort to restore that benighted region to its former status as the breadbasket of the Eastern Kingdoms. The_ Stormwind Daily Mail _is proud to be a part of this noble effort to bring justice to a downtrodden people._

 _But what does the campaign look like from the other side? To find out, we’ve despatched our fearless Lifestyles Reporter, Jynnxe Jones, to the abandoned Echo Ridge Mine, rumoured to be the home of the Kobold King himself, for an exclusive interview. What follows is the first part of a two-part series.]_

_\---_

**"Love Slaves of the Kobold King" Part I: The Hall of Many Candles**  
Jynnxe Jones, Staff Writer 

It was with some trepidation that I slipped between the rusted iron bars blocking the entrance to the old Echo Ridge mine. To dispel the gloom and to show my solidarity with the kobold peoples whom I hoped to find there, my only source of light was a candle on top of my head. I was wearing a hat, of course, because who in their right mind drips wax all over their head and sticks a candle on it? Besides our kobold friends, I mean. But I’m sure they don’t pay nearly as much as I do at the hairdresser.

I certainly needed the light. It was dark in there! But it wasn’t empty. There were things, chittering and scurrying in the shadows just outside the little cone of candlelight, and spiderwebs filled the corners and hung from the ceiling like gauzy curtains. The floor near the entrance was covered with windborne litter, the detritus of the changing seasons. But there were bones there, too, mostly of small forest creatures brought in by predators but scattered among them were the remains of the innocent kobolds murdered in this place for their candles.

It was clear no one had been in here for years. But there were rumours that the Kobold King himself lived somewhere in the depths of the mine, and so here I was, the intrepid reporter on the trail of a story.

As it turned out, my story found me.

By the time I made it to the bottom of the mine, my candle was half burned through and despite what we'd heard, still no sign of life. I had just turned around when to go back up when I smelled it -- a revolting combination of burned hair and rancid wax. There were kobolds nearby!

“I come in peace,” I started to say. But before I could do more than open my mouth, someone had rushed up behind me and knocked the candle off my head, plunging the mine into darkness! I screamed, just as they dropped an absolutely disgusting burlap sack over my head. I felt strong arms wrapping around my lithe, young body, pinning my arms and hoisting me off my feet.

In a panic, I tried to scream again, but the smell inside the sack was so awful I could barely breath. So, I kicked out instead. Luckily, I was wearing my red heels, the nice ones Mr. Shaw from the palace gave me after I – well, I can’t actually talk about it since he made me promise to keep it secret! But they’re very nice shoes. And quite expensive. Not very practical for walking around in abandoned mines, but they went perfectly with the skirt I’d picked out. And they had very pointy toes, one of which I placed quite forcefully in an extremely tender part of someone’s anatomy, to judge by the noise it made. Feeling the arms around me loosen, I fled blindly, yanking at the sack covering my head as I ran. Sadly, I misjudged the direction, which I think I can be forgiven for since it was pitch dark and I had a bag over my head. I had barely gone two steps when I ran smack into a wall. One of us had to give, and it turned out to be me.

When I awoke, things were a little creepy. For starters, I was in a bed. Quite a large, comfortable bed, actually, which was nice. This wasn’t unusual. I frequently wake up in beds. It’s my preferred way to wake up, in fact. Oddly, however, I couldn’t move my hands, because, as I soon discovered, they were tied to the bed post above me. Again, somewhat off-putting but still not out of my realm of experience, either. And I appeared to have misplaced my clothes. But still – Look, I’d hate for you, my legions of readers, to get the idea that waking up naked and tied to a strange bed with no clear recollection of how I’d gotten there is somehow a regular thing for me. But the truth is, it happens to people more often than you’d think. So no, that wasn’t what put me off. It wasn’t even all the naked kobolds standing around the bed watching me. There were twenty of them (I counted) all with candles burning on their heads and totally starkers -- not a stitch of clothing between them. But honestly, I’ve been at weirder parties than this.

No, the creepy part was the fact that while they stared at me in unblinking silence, every single one of them was slowly wanking himself. In perfect unison.

That was creepy.

(Next week: The Kobold King shows me his candle. See you there.)

_(With circulation in Stormwind City, Elwynn Forest, Duskshire, Northshire Abbey, Lakeshire, Ironforge, and wherever in Azeroth the good folk of Stormwind can be found, the_ Daily Mail _is Stormwind’s source for news you can trust. The_ Stormwind Daily Mail _is a proud member of the Azeroth Media Group.)_

(Enjoying my adventures? Have a thought, a comment, a question or reflection? Drop me a line.)

-30-


	2. Jynnxe Takes Candle

_[Last week, as you may recall, our feisty heroine ventured into the depths of the Echo Ridge Mine near Northshire, in search of the legendary Kobold King. Captured and knocked unconscious, she awakens to find herself unclothed and bound securely to a bed, surrounded by naked kobolds each engaging in an act of simultaneous self-abuse.]_

*** 

**“Love Slaves of the Kobold King” Part II: Jynnxe Takes Candle**  
Jynnxe Jones, Staff Writer

Well! You can imagine my surprise. There I was, naked, tied spread-eagled to a (surprisingly comfortable) bed in the depths of the Echo Ridge Mine, surrounded by naked kobolds, all staring at me while simultaneously pulling their puds. Not just simultaneously, but in perfect unison. Up-down-up-down … it was weirdly hypnotic. Okay, weird, anyway.

When you’re in shit, keep your mouth shut. That’s what my Grampa used to say, and he knew all about being in shit. So I kept my mouth shut and watched the show. But after an hour, it was becoming increasingly difficult. For one thing, my kobold admirers were still going at it. I’m serious. A full hour of single-minded lanyard-yanking had yet to result in any cannons going off. And they showed no sign of stopping. That’s talent; these guys could make a bundle in some of the clubs around Booty Bay. Not only did I want to applaud their devotion to duty, I also needed to pee. Really, really needed to pee. And despite all the kobolds with their candles, it was cold in that draughty old cave, and my girls were reaching for the ceiling. A little bit of that was me enjoying my new friends. But mostly it was the cold.

Finally, something happened. I heard the sound of bare feet scuffing on the stone and suddenly there I was, eye to eye, as it were, with the biggest kobold I’d ever seen. It had to be the fabled Kobold King.

Let me clarify this. He was no taller nor more burly (nor better smelling, nor, as it turned out, any more articulate) than any other kobold. But after an hour watching the Kobold Burlesque Show and All-Boy Revue, I had become something of an expert on certain aspects of kobold anatomy, and I assure you, he was head and shoulders over the rest of them. A couple heads-and-shoulders, in fact, and I was close enough to tell. Plus, it was surprisingly clean, which, lucky me, as it turned out.

“Hi,” I said, in my most engaging tones. “I’m Jynnxe Jones, Lifestyles Reporter for the Stormwind Daily Mail.” I like to get that out there quickly. Being a reporter opens lots of doors, and sometimes you discover you’re talking to a fan, which is nice. But he wasn’t impressed. 

“You take candle,” he answered, pointing at his – ahem – candle. 

This really took the cake. I’ve had guys before come on to me like they owned the room and I was just another piece of furniture. But they at least had the grace to say “Hello” first. Or “Nice rack.” Or some kind of introductory phrase. This was completely beyond the pale and so I told him exactly what he could do with his candle.

He looked at me, then at the Kobold Tabernacle Choir, still wanking solemnly away, and he said: “You no take candle? You take candles.”

I looked to where he was looking, counted heads, and gulped. 

And, you guessed it, I took candle. 

What would you have done? Trying to pull a twenty-car train under those circumstances was going to be the opposite of fun. At least this way all I had to do was open wide and say “Ahh.” While I was waiting for him to finish, I put together a shopping list of everything my editor was going to owe after this was done. It was a long list. Which was good, because Mr. The-Kobold-King took his sweet time.

Mid-way through, I was distracted by the feeling of someone climbing onto the bed. Circumstances being what they were, I couldn’t very well turn my head to see who it was, and so imagine my surprise when I felt hands on my knees and then began to feel some very pleasant sensations. I actually had to stop working on my shopping list for a considerable period of time, and just about when Mr. “You-Take-Candle” started squirting out kobold juice, I was lighting off some fireworks of my own.

You can imagine my surprise when I discovered who my new friend was. I had assumed it was a very talented kobold. It turned out to be a human woman. It was hard to tell at first, under all the dirt and the caked on wax from the candle stuck to her head. Plus the hair. If I had to guess, I’d say someone hadn’t shaved her legs since before Cataclysm. But she was human, as far as I could tell under the dirt.

I never did discover her name. “You pretty candle,” she said to me after the King left. She was pointing at my private parts which do not in any way resemble a candle in the traditional sense. I let her know this, too. “That ain’t no candle, lady,” I told her. But all she did was look at me sadly and repeat the same line.

She soon left, and a couple hours later someone came along and took me to the throne room. It had a throne, anyway, plus a huge pile of kobolds sitting around in bleachers against the wall, and my friends from before, still stroking busily away, all of them staring at the throne where the king was getting his knob relentlessly polished by my new friend. The mystery of its unaccountable cleanliness was now explained. There was no way any speck of dirt, grime, grease, wax or bodily secretion was going to withstand that kind of lip-work. I was in awe, let me tell you. I’m no amateur myself, but that girl could teach classes in it.

After a few minutes of this, the King said something like “Pretty candle” and strong hands grasped my lithe, young body and, despite my struggles and cries of despair, plopped me down on a wide, padded bench. The Boys in the Band all gathered round and the next thing I know, there’s me, and the King, and the king’s (not so little) little king all having our own private party while every Kobold down in Koboldville stood around and watched.

Good ol’ Jynnxie, flat on her back again. 

And again. And AGAIN. It turns out the King not only had the candle for the job, he knew how to use it. Me, I just kept climbing that mountain and singing “Hallelujah” over and over again. Probably a dozen times before he finally threw his head back and let out a mighty roar and the next thing I know, him and the entire Kobold Fire Brigade are cleaning out their hoses. And three guesses where the fire was? 

Afterwards, they took me away and plopped me back into bed, to get some sleep and await my next audience. I gathered this was going to be the routine from here on in. 

But it was not to be.

I never did find out who my new friend was, only that she’d been there a while and that my arrival meant her position as Candle-Cleaner-in-Chief to His Nibs was in jeopardy, a fact about which she was not happy. She made it clear to me that I and my “pretty candle” both needed to leave. Now. 

I was fine with that. The Kobold King had carved himself a pretty memorable notch on my bedpost, but there was no way I wanted to make a career out of it. Since I was once more tied to the bed and with armed guards at the door, I didn’t really see how escape was possible. But she managed it somehow, and a few hours later I found myself standing outside the entrance to the mine, and waving farewell. 

I was stark naked, mind you, since none of my things made it out with me. But at least I was free. The nice man who answered the door at the Northshire Abbey was a bit surprised to see me, but he was able to find some clothes that didn’t fit me too badly (even if they were hideously out of fashion; I would have almost rather walked into Stormwind naked except for how much trouble it caused the last time) and soon I was home. Without my interview, or the pretty shoes that Mr. Shaw gave me, but home, safe in my own bed, and with an interesting story to tell.

I had tried to get my new friend to come with me. But she wouldn’t. Was she afraid of the Kobold King? Or was it his talented candle that drew her back down into the depths? “I have friends,” I told her, “Big, tough ones. Guys who could walk in there and mop up that entire crew without breaking a sweat. You don’t have to be here.” But she just shook her head and pushed me out, then turned to make her lonely back down into the mine.

_(With circulation in Stormwind City, Elwynn Forest, Duskshire, Northshire Abbey, Lakeshire, Ironforge, and wherever in Azeroth the good folk of Stormwind can be found, the Daily Mail is Stormwind’s source for news you can trust. The Stormwind Daily Mail is a proud member of the Azeroth Media Group.)_

-30-


End file.
